


Lost and Found

by Calleva



Category: Aethelflaed/Erik - Fandom, Aethelrik - Fandom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Alternative Universe (very!), Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Science Fiction, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 07:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 19,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14420577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calleva/pseuds/Calleva
Summary: Aethelflaed, a young Saxon widow, wakes from a nap and finds that her world has changed. She is wearing strange clothes and a ring she has never seen before. Having no remembrance of anything unusual, she visits her medical advisor and is given some shocking news.In the space of two hours she has seemingly passed months in another life, one that plainly involved a mysterious lover.Searching for the truth, she is led to Erik Thurgilson, a Viking warlord who holds the key to her missing memory - but can she trust an enemy of her people?





	1. The Ring

_Gloucester, Kingdom of Mercia, 887 AD_

Something was definitely wrong. She had woken feeling groggy and disoriented. It was stronger than the dozy feeling that comes from a mid-afternoon nap and felt more like the morning after an ale-fuelled binge. Not that she was supposed to know about such things, but having lived among fighting men most of her life, she was fond of a jug of ale.

Except that she hadn't been drinking. Her head ached and felt dizzy so she sat up and reached for some water. There was a clink as metal touched glass. That was odd - she couldn't remember putting her wedding ring back on. She had taken it off with much relief when her husband died a few months ago after a year of marriage. Dignified in widowhood, the Lady Aethelflaed had impressed everyone with her bearing and courage in grief. She had always been a good actress.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat thinking for a moment. What had happened to her? Absent-mindedly she twisted the ring on her finger and bit her lip in thought. Her fingers met with roughness where she had expected smooth gold. Puzzled, she stretched out her hand to examine it.

A silver ring with a raised pattern shone from her fourth finger. The image was a knotwork design in the shape of an animal with its mouth open and about to swallow something. She had never seen the ring before in her life.

What had happened to her?


	2. The Sky Ship

_Fifty Years Earlier_

Before Aethelflaed's eyes opened, she knew she was in a strange place. She felt a slight rocking beneath her; it was like being inside a large covered cradle. A man's body was slumped beside her which stretched the length of the chamber. He was wearing leather armour and had an axe tucked into his belt. He appeared to be soundly asleep. Could he have brought her here? Was he some sort of guard? She looked around her; everything was so bright - the walls, the door, even the floor were made of some smooth white substance that felt warmer than stone and certainly wasn't painted wood. There was a bench seat at one end and a door at the other, which she opened, hoping to find out more about this strange place. She found herself standing in a tiny cubicle. There was a sort of hollow seat and beside it a bowl set into the same white material. She decided that she had come across a latrine. Pressing the silvery object by the bowl she jumped at the jet of water. She pressed it again and the water stopped. A large mirror on the wall reflected her face back at her: long golden hair, braids now messy with sleep, blue-grey eyes showing surprise and fear.

Back in the main chamber the other person was still in the same place but conscious and moving slowly. He moaned, tried to sit up and then retched. Aethelflaed looked around for a cup. The bench seat turned out to be for storage and she rifled among the bags of foodstuff until she came to cups and plates. She ran some water and offered it to the stranger. He sipped it and began to retch again. Unsteadily, on account of his greater weight and height, she helped him to the latrine. He knelt over it and vomited several times. Watching the back of his head, Aethelflaed noted that his blond hair was worn in a Viking style. She felt she should be afraid but he was in no position to harm her and when he turned his head to look at her, she saw the deep blue of his eyes. He murmured something in Norse, then, when she didn't respond, in English. "Thank you, Lady. Where are we?"  
She shook her head, "I have no idea." So - he knew no more than she did.

There was a low mechanical noise from within the latrine and again it was clean. He stared at it for a moment, thinking, then got to his feet and went back to the main chamber. "These must be windows." he commented. Aethelflaed had thought the row of circles a strange ornament. Wispy white swirls moved softly behind them. "We appear to be in the air, in some kind of sky ship." he added, his voice a mixture of wonder and fear. Aethelflaed peered through one of the circles. She realised she was looking at clouds, and then suddenly as the little craft began to descend, the clouds parted.

She could make out the blue of an ocean, a sea far wider than she'd ever seen before, and a group of islands, the largest of which they seemed to be heading for. Inland some tall trees with no branches, just huge fronds, formed a kind of woodland and in the centre there was a lake. At the land's edge was a sandy beach and dunes. The little craft landed silently beside the dunes.

An unseen door, hinged at the top, slowly gaped open onto the island scene. Sunlight and warmth filled the little chamber, beckoning them to explore.

"We should be careful," cautioned the Northman, "there may be others here and they might not be friendly."  
Aethelflaed thought with relief that he seemed to regard her as a comrade rather than a victim. She looked at the two swords which hung at either side of his belt. He nodded and gave a tight smile, "Lady I suggest that we work together. My name's Erik."

She opened her mouth to reply and checked herself. Her royal name would give her away and she couldn't trust him as yet. He might not normally be honourable and she was worth a fortune in ransom. "I'm Fleda," she told him. It was the name she was known by among her family and closest friends.

"My guess is that we were both drugged and brought here - but by who? and why?"


	3. I Feel All Wrong

_Gloucester_

Her head hurt less now. But other parts of her seemed more tender than usual. She pushed back the curtain of her chamber and looked cautiously around. There was nothing unusual. How could someone with evil intentions slip past her household guards and servants? Nothing would get past Gudrun. Nothing had got past her since they first met four years ago. 

Aethelflaed had been walking through a strange part of Lunden when the party came across a slave market. Her companions tried to hurry her away, but it was too late. One of the women in the cage caught her attention. Their eyes met. The strange woman's face was immobile, without expression. She carried herself with such dignity, Aethelflaed was sure she was someone of noble birth whose family would no doubt be grateful for her return. Despite her attendants' protests, the fourteen-year-old Aethelflaed strode up to the slaver and started to bargain. She didn't carry coin of course, but her attendants did and they emptied everything they had at her insistence. It was not enough, but a word from her guard about never selling in Lunden ever again was enough to lower the price. The price of a human being. A woman who had been bought and sold several times a day for the past eight years.

Gudrun was Norse, a fisherman's daughter from very far north, a village that reeked of fish and salt and poverty. Hunger and desperation had forced her father to sell his ten year old daughter. What had happened after that was something the maid never spoke of. 

So how could even one bad man break into Aethelflaed's palace, slip past her guards, drug her, and give her a silver ring? Nothing about this made sense.

She walked into the hall and was greeted by Gudrun. "There you are, Lady. We were worried when we could not find you..."  
"I went upstairs to rest, that's all."

Aethelflaed wasn't prepared for the puzzled look on the face of her maidservant, "Those are lovely brooches," remarked Gudrun, "You look almost like a Danish queen."

Aethelflaed looked down and realised that she was wearing unfamiliar clothing. She hadn't noticed before - her drowsiness had been too heavy; and the colour was a deep blue-green that she often wore. "I'd better get out of them or people will wonder at my loyalties." Laughed the Saxon princess. "I can do this, Gudrun, you go and see if Pepper needs organising." Pepper was Gudrun's own maid. Aethelflaed retreated to her chamber and quickly pulled off the strange robe. She would worry about it later. 

There was something else now which seemed even more wrong - as she pulled her overdress off, it brushed against her upper torso, causing an unfamiliar sensation. Dropping the dress to the floor she put her hands to her breasts, wonderingly. Even beneath the underdress, she could tell they were - different - bigger and more sensitive. As she touched them, there was a tingling sensation. They felt firmer than usual. Uncomfortably so.

"Let me get your robe, Lady." Gudrun had come in behind her and Aethelflaed was glad to let her take over. She didn't care what she wore but her maid took pains to see she always looked her best. As Aethelflaed slipped a familiar gown over her head, her hand brushed against her breast again and to her shock she realised the cloth was damp. She sat down on the edge of her bed while her maid arranged the belt. "I don't feel quite right, did you see anything unusual this afternoon?"  
"We wondered where you had gone, since you were not to be found."  
"Did you check my chamber?"  
"I did but you were not there."  
"I lay down and woke up a couple of hours later feeling a bit strange. I think I'll see my healer. It's probably nothing much."

Could her maid have betrayed her in some way? She was Norse, and those were Norse clothes that Aethelflaed had been wearing. Had she slipped a potion into her mistress' drink and shared in some dark and sordid plot? But why would she? Gudrun had no ties with her old land and she hated men so much that she stepped aside whenever one passed her. Plus, she had seemed genuinely surprised by Aethelflaed's clothing.

Ceolnoth the physician had known the Lady Aethelflaed since she had come to Mercia as a bride. He had liked Alfred's bright, pretty daughter, but like many who worked in the palace, had been privately concerned at the low spirits which affected her almost at once. Servants' gossip had it that Aethelred mistreated her, causing the sweet-tempered girl to become withdrawn and pale. Ceolnoth had been pleased to see how as a widow, the princess had regained her spirits and her colour improved as she took control of the household and became active in Mercian affairs. She had called for him only once after Aethelred's death, complaining of tiredness. He had given her an infusion to strengthen her blood but otherwise she had no other problems. It seemed that her husband's attentions had not resulted in anything more concrete than a few bruises and those faded quickly.  
Now she was standing before him in her chamber with a worried look on her face and saying she did not feel right. He made a quick calculation. Aethelred had been dead four months.... surely - not? "When was your last bleed?"  
"About a week ago. I've been in perfect health until I woke up from that nap. Now I feel all wrong. I'm tender too when I use the latrine. Please say you can help me."

Gently Ceolnoth explained that he would need to examine her physically to determine if there was anything amiss. She might have the dizzy spells caused by not eating enough good food. He had noticed her in chapel last week and she had looked the picture of health but now she did look paler than he remembered and this was puzzling. Aethelflaed lay on her bed and patiently let him examine her, answering his questions simply and without false modesty.

"Well, is there anything wrong with me? Tell me you know what it is?" Aethelflaed noticed the concerned expression on his face as Ceolnoth looked wordlessly down at her. He took a breath and then said slowly, "Lady I would not say you are unwell. It seems impossible, but you show all the signs of having recently given birth."


	4. The Island

Erik jumped free from the sky ship, "I would rather face attack than sit in that cramped cabin any longer. I'm going to explore, I won't be long. It might be best if you waited here, in case it isn't safe. Pull down the door if you feel alarmed."  
"Be careful. There might be wild animals too - snakes and spiders. Take care."

His smile was nervous but softened his face. Aethelflaed realised he was shy, but also touched by her concern for him. "I have my boots." He turned abruptly and walked over the dunes until she couldn't see him. Surely whoever had sent them here had not done it for them to be killed by the locals, human or animal? Aethelflaed realised that if the place was hostile, there was nothing to be gained by staying in the floating chamber. On the other hand he had suggested she remain and there was an authority to him which made her instinctively comply. She decided to search the sky ship for useful items, and more clues as to what had happened to them.

There were some interesting things stowed away under the bench seat. As well as the bags of flour, plates and cups, she found two bedrolls, some blankets, rope and a folded sheet of what looked like oiled canvas. There was also a spade lying at the very bottom. As well as all this were two mysterious looking pieces of black cloth. They weren't anything she recognised - the texture was silky but stretched when she examined it. One item looked like an undergarment for the lower body, with holes for the legs. The other was slightly larger, it puzzled her for a while. Was it a garment? She held it up and turned it around so she was holding it by its two straps. It could be an undergarment for women, she thought. But why provide these things? 

"You'll be pleased to know that there doesn't seem to be anyone else here," Erik's voice woke her from her reverie, "Or perhaps you won't." He held out two figs, smiling. "I tried them, they are good to eat. There is a stream of fresh water which has fish. So we have food and water, though I would rather not get back into that thing for shelter."  
"I have more good news for you: you won't have to. We can make a new shelter." She indicated the canvas sheet.

On the eastern side of the island was a grove which would provide shade. Erik got to work with his axe.


	5. I Will Find You

_Gloucester_

There was only one only one person whose discretion she could trust and that was Gudrun. As expected, the Norsewoman did not react strongly but nodded her head slightly to show that she had heard. "You will probably think I have been dreaming" said Aethelflaed, "but what am I to think of all the changes to me?"  
"It is true that something is not right. But if it has really happened to you, it may have happened to others. I will keep a listening ear out."

Aethelflaed twisted her silver ring, it was getting to be a habit when she was pensive. "I'll wear this, it might be recognised." A dull feeling in her heart reminded her that in a place lost from memory she might have simply bought it for herself. It was attractive and could have caught her eye. Or there may be others who wore the same thing. A group of people, all washed clean of memories.  
"Anyone with the same ring might also not remember anything. But you will know you are not alone."

It was an easy matter for Aethelflaed to show her hand to her servants, claiming that she had found the silver ring among her things, that it must have been a gift but she'd forgotten who had given it and needed to remember to avoid any embarrassment. No one claimed to have seen it.

Confusion, helplessness, frustration, anger - and deep, deep sadness. She had heard stories about fairy folk, people from an unseen world - could these beings exist? The tales sometimes involved stolen children. She had always thought they were made up to scare children so they wouldn't wander. Her mother had told her such tales. But what if they were true? Perhaps time passed differently in fairyland and she had a child who had been taken from her? It was almost impossible to imagine. She could be a mother with a child she would never know and who would never know her.  


And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing.

Or was there?

Whatever it took, she must find out the truth and this would lead her to her lost child. The ring had stayed on her finger since she had woken a couple of days ago, when her world had changed. She would not remove it until she had answers.

Her child might be dead of course. Babies often died, but the... fairies... or whoever they were would surely not let that happen to hers, if they truly had such powers. She shut her eyes and tried to reach into her soul; some part of her had to remember. Nothing.... except a feeling that wherever it was, it was still alive. She didn't even know if it was a girl or a boy. Despite her resolve, she could not prevent the wetness from her eyes that ran down her face and soaked into her gown.

 

In the days that followed Aethelflaed found she had accepted the strange fate that been hers. Initial confusion had been replaced by determination. She would find out what had happened. But if she did find a baby that belonged to her, what then? People would talk. She'd have to pretend it was adopted.  


She had to act decisively but she wasn't afraid of decisions. Since her husband had died, she had remained alone rather than risk another tyrant of a husband. She had assumed power, which involved taking control of the fighting men. To the surprise of many - though not her father - she had done well. In her only major battle against the Danes she had personally addressed the army and screamed battle cries as the killing began. A shield maiden, they called her. She had brought them victory and they would follow her. Meanwhile she would show the unseen ones who had stolen untold months of her lifespan what it was to mess with Alfred's daughter, the winner of battles.

"I have learned something that might help you," Gudrun said in her simple undramatic way a few days later. "I have done as you said, listened for anything unusual - in the market, coming from chapel, on my errands. I heard of a man who vanished and reappeared as by magic. He had no memory of it, yet said that his beard had grown suddenly and he had a new scar that had healed."  
"Did you learn his name? Was he wearing a silver ring?"  
"I do not know about a ring. He had spoken in the ale house and people think he was addled by drink. They are teasing him, calling him Adric the mad."  
"Except that we know he is not mad. He's very likely another person who has been taken. I need to talk to him. Oh and I need you to find me a baby."


	6. Adric the Mad

Adric wasn't mad and he was weary of people laughing at him. He looked warily at the princess and blinked. They were in a small chamber lined with wall hangings. It was simply furnished, but the table and chairs were of good oak. He'd worked with wood and he knew quality when he saw it. The lady invited him to sit and tell his tale.

"They say I am mad, and ale-sodden, Lady. Only the second is true."  
"You do not look mad to me. I would like you to tell me what you think happened to you. I promise I will not laugh or jeer. I will however be very angry if you do not tell me the truth."

Aethelflaed indicated a plate of honey cakes. Shyly he took one. 

"If anyone else told this story I would laugh at them myself." he began, "It's not one for believing, except that I swear on the holy Cross that it is true.... It was during the haymaking and I suddenly felt tired. I lay down under a big pile of hay not meaning to fall asleep, but sleep I did. Then I awoke what seemed a few moments later, but..... I wasn't the same, Lady. It was as if I'd been drinking and my head was sore. Then I was sick, if you'll excuse me for saying so. I went on with the haymaking, not telling anyone about my nap when someone said that they saw me lie down and that I just disappeared. There was talk of witchcraft so the person said he had made it up as a joke. Then walking home, I saw that I had on different clothes, and boots, not my bare feet, and my beard was grown bigger. I've also got a new scar, except it isn't new, it is a healed scar and I don't know how I got it. It wasn't there before."

Aethelflaed nodded silently, then asked, "Were you wearing anything else strange, such as a jewel or a ring? Were the new clothes the kind you usually wear?"  
"I swear I am no thief, Lady. These are the clothes I woke up in, and these the very boots I was wearing. They are good ones but I didn't take them. They were on my feet." 

He was dressed in a long tunic and leggings, nothing unusual. Aethelflaed looked down at his footwear. Plain but good boots. Maybe he had stolen them, she couldn't know for sure. She placed her hand on the arm of the chair so that the ring was clearly visible. "And you had on nothing else unusual? a brooch for instance? A ring, perhaps ..." She held out her ringed hand and smiled as if it were a joke.

He barely looked at the ring and shook his head, "Only what I have told you."  
"And you have no memory at all between falling asleep and waking up. A dream maybe?"  
"No, nothing. I wish I did, Lady. I wish I did. Then I would have seen the Little People, which no one ever has. But they have stolen my memory so I cannot remember. That is why people laugh at me."  
"Well I am not laughing at you. Your honesty will be rewarded with good coin. You may take another honey cake as well. Good day to you Adric and perhaps in God's time we will know the truth." 

Aethelflaed smiled graciously and rose to her feet. Adric stood up, taking another cake before bowing low.


	7. Settling In

_The Island, fifty years earlier_

She felt faintly guilty swimming in the lagoon while Erik worked on the shelter. Whatever the weather, he swore he wouldn't spend a night in that sky ship. He associated it with his nausea, she supposed. The island was theirs and the air so still that she could hear the sound of his axe as he cleared the ground and prepared the poles for the canvas roof. He needed to work fast if he was to get the shelter ready before nightfall. She glided through the water, enjoying the feel of it against her near-naked skin and the soft warmth from the sun on her back. That strange garment she had found was perfect for bathing; it retained her modesty and gave her freedom to move. 

Earlier today she had been in her palace in Gloucester and now here she was on a strange land with sea all around and a Viking companion who was not her enemy. In fact, he'd been polite and even gracious. He also seemed very intelligent. Her mind went to her father; it seemed impossible but she thought the two would like each other, if the world were different. Both were careful and both liked to plan.

She climbed out of the water and wrapped herself in one of the blankets. It had a strange texture that was good for drying. With it still around her, she walked back to the grove. Erik was resting, leaning on the handle of his upturned axe. He wasn't wearing his armour. "I think we might clear the ship of everything useful, in case it flies away. We have no idea who owns it or if they should want it again." He added "I've made the shelter reasonably secure. We can improve it over time. I can make us a fire, it will keep away any wild animals and be useful for cooking."  
"A hearth would be good - we've always had them, haven't we? Though we do not need one for warmth. Do you have a firestone?" He nodded.  
"How long will we be here?" she wondered "Forever, perhaps?"  
He shook his head, "Who knows? But we were brought here, so there must be some reason for it. It's not obvious if anyone is watching us but we must assume that people who can make a ship that flies can do many other things."  
"I wonder why they chose us and what they want? By the way you should definitely swim in that lake, it's wonderfully warm and the water is clear. Meanwhile I'd like to forage for food."  
He looked uneasy, "I'm not happy about your exploring on your own before we have fully learned about this place."  
"The air is still, you'd hear me if I called out. I won't go far, only where you have already been."

He seemed satisfied by that. He took the strange garment and a blanket and strode off. She watched him as he walked away, surprised at how much she had grown to like him. He was nothing like the Vikings she'd heard about or confronted in battle. 

They tested the unfamiliar fruits - first on the hand, and when there was no itching, on the lip, and finally on the tongue. Figs, mangoes, dates, bananas. They tasted a little of each and waited. "You realise that we could still die," noted Erik as he sat back on his bedroll and watched the fire in its little hearth of stones. He looked relaxed after his swim. Neither had changed from their swimwear, the blankets provided enough modesty and it was too warm for their heavy clothes. Aethelflaed already planned to wear just her underdress. 

"While I was foraging I came to a patch of land that looked as if it had once been used. It was overgrown, but the fruits all came from the trees round the edge, as if they had been planted there. There were also some birds rooting around and I wondered if they could be wild hens. We should go there and take a good look - it might be that people were here before us."  
"Hens would be useful - eggs and meat as well as the fish. First, let's get some rest and we can go back in the morning. I will keep watch for a while but you should sleep."  
"Wake me when you need to sleep. I'll take over." She turned over under her blanket and fell asleep almost at once.

It was morning when she awoke and to her surprise Erik was missing; had something carried him off in the night? The fire was burning merrily, fresh twigs had recently been laid and beside it there was a cooking pot and a skillet. Looking round the shelter, she realised he must have cleared out the ship and then gone exploring. Aethelflaed liked solitude, she had so little of it at home, but now she missed his presence. He was easy to be with. She wondered who he was, he couldn't be just 'Erik'. They would have plenty of time to get to know each other, anyway.

A movement at her side told her he had returned. He stood in front of her dressed in just his long under tunic and leggings. Before she could speak he had reached into his pocket and retrieved four large eggs. "You were right, they are hens. I've had a good look among all the scrub and I've found what I think are beehives. I didn't look inside in case there were any bees, though I didn't see any. There were definitely people here but there's no sign of them now. No dwelling that I can see, certainly nothing standing. I'll take a more thorough look again, there may be cut wood we could use. They had to have lived somewhere."  
"They must have been here some time to do all that." Said Aethelflaed sombrely.

After a breakfast of eggs and fruit, they went exploring again. This time their search yielded some rather dried honey from the old hives, and deep in the undergrowth a pile of shaped wooden logs and planks. They decided to continue with the shelter but use the wood to help provide walls and a floor.  
"There are vegetables growing here," Aethelflaed was glad of her practical upbringing. His time as a fugitive in Athelney had convinced Alfred that all his children should have some basic skills in case their lives should change dramatically. Perhaps what decided him it was his own inability to watch simple hearth cakes without burning them. She pulled up some interesting looking roots and gathered some green leaves. "I think I've found carrots, oh, and here are onions, I wonder if there is any wild garlic?"  
He smiled at her "We're doing well, aren't we?" His eyes narrowed, "You have the look of a lady yet you can cook and forage. Who are you really?"  
He would have to realise she was a nobleman's child. She lowered her eyes, "I'm a widow, I run my own household and have a good notion of what my servants have to do. My father was a youngest son and growing up there were times when life was hard." This was all true.  
"Can you read?" Suspicion had given way to curiosity.  
She faltered, wondering where this might lead. Too much information would help him work out her identity. "It's not a skill I need in this place." she said dismissively.

This time they swam in the sea. Although the sun was rising in the sky, it didn't seem to burn their pale northern skins. After months of being the virtual ruler of Mercia, balancing all the different factions and getting ready for war, Aethelflaed could feel the tension starting to wash away. It was pointless to worry about how things were going at home. She could do nothing about it. Her new Viking friend didn't seem to recognise her, she was sure they'd never seen each other before. She knew Guthrum and several others, but this Erik was a mystery. She couldn't place him.

After their swim, they wrapped towels loosely around their shoulders and walked side by side along the sand. 

"I ought to feel concerned about my home, but instead I find myself relaxing. It's as if I had nothing to do but find food, rest and explore. I suppose you miss your, um, raiding."  
He gave a little sigh, " It is not all raiding. It's my task to ensure the men eat, drink and have room to sleep. When they argue and fight, I have to keep the peace. I agree, in this place, it is almost impossible to worry about things. My mind is already feeling lighter."  
"Why do they fight each other?" She was curious, this information could well be useful one day.  
"Oh the usual things," he muttered, suddenly looking shy, "silver, reputation - and women. Then there are the wounded men. We have plenty of those. It's the healer's job to care for them, but he answers to me at day's end."

He sounded more and more like a warlord, yet he didn't seem bloodthirsty or cruel. He might have been a scribe in her father's service. No... no he couldn't. He had asked her if she could read, and she had the impression it was a skill he regarded with some awe. It was something most Northmen didn't bother with. Only Guthrum had, but later in life when he had seen her father's library and decided there and thento have one of his own. Well, whoever this Erik was, she felt happy in his company. Some instinct in her told her to trust him.

"It's wonderful now, when it's all so new. Swimming in the sea or the lake, finding food and enjoying all the sunshine, but.... what if we are here for a long time?"  
"We can't look that far ahead. Our task is to stay safe. Cuts can go bad and we don't have anything to treat wounds. We must just try to survive, and then we can indulge in boredom." He sounded serious, but he wasn't annoyed by her question. He was so patient.  
"No, I didn't mean that. I was just thinking...." memories of her husband came back to her, the sneering way he spoke to her. He hadn't known about her sword skills, another of the things her father had wanted her to learn, or her way with a skillet, she daren't tell him. He was insanely suspicious, accusing her of adultery with numerous men, which was nonsense, and when she objected he hit her and called her shrill. He had soon made it clear that he preferred the company of his chief advisor and the few Mercian noblemen who were his friends, men as ignorant and venal as himself. Deep down she realised she bored him. 

She had never had very many friends of her own age. In Winchester she had got to know and even joke with the men who guarded the palace, but they were hardly companions. She had eased her loneliness by activity - riding her horse, exercising her dogs, practising sword skills, and of course her father liked her to help him with his translations. She had always been busy.

Her husband had been contemptuous of her attempts at conversation. After the misery of her wedding night, she was relieved that he did not always join her. He explained the reason without her needing to ask. In his typically sneering way he had said her body was like a boy's. She was slender and agile from exercise, and it was true she hadn't developed the full figure that he might have preferred. Was it her fault if she had no tits? They brought no joy to each other. Anything she might have done to please him would have aroused his suspicion - where had she learned to do that? 

"I was thinking.." she repeated, "that you might get bored with me. I'm sorry you don't have more company."  
Almost instinctively he moved closer to her, while maintaining the pace, "I was thinking the same about you. Whoever you are, you are accomplished. I expect you have read many books. Your priests are said to be learned men. No doubt your husband was also well-read."  
She sighed and looked away. How could this intelligent and resourceful man possibly be in awe of a man like Aethelred?

"Look!" he interrupted her thoughts, "The sky ship - It's gone!"

Now they really were alone.


	8. Honey Cakes

"We'd better think about getting some food in. You'll have to teach me to fish." Aethelflaed sounded bright, though the disappearance of the ship unnerved them both. They had now no means of leaving. "I suppose as a Dane you know about catching fish. I never met a Dane who didn't. When we were children, my friend Inga would spear them and I cleaned and cooked them."  
He nodded, "I think between us, we will be able to survive in this place." His tone was light and even. So many secrets... She knew Erik was thinking the same as she was, that they might never leave the island. She was glad that her father had insisted she be able to do more than stitching and organising a household. How thankful she was that he had been such an unorthodox parent! It would also help her maintain her un-royal identity around Erik.

With a little flourish he held up a fish, writhing on the tip of his longsword. "I'll make you a spear," he told her, "then you can learn to catch a fish as well as a Dane." He was standing in the stream in just his long undertunic and his swimwear. He looked truly carefree and happy, she thought, and seemed eager for her praise.  
"I'd like that," she smiled back, "but can you kill it for me? I don't like killing things. I know it's silly."  
"Of course I will," he replied gallantly, "and I could take one of the hens too, there are plenty of males which we don't need."

They ate a good meal that night, fish, greens, a few boiled vegetables and cups of coconut milk - Erik had split one of the hard brown objects which had dropped from the trees and found that although it was hard on the outside, inside it was good to eat and drink. Feeling inspired, and wanting to impress Erik, Aethelflaed had made some simple hearth cakes from the ship's flour and the honey. They decided to eat these beside the lake and watch the setting sun.

"These are really not bad," said Erik, eyeing his half-eaten cake, "even without salt - that must be our task tomorrow. We make salt from the sea."  
"You can have cakes until the honey runs out. I wonder where the bees went?"  
"They will be wild now, I expect. I intend to walk around the island tomorrow and explore it more fully."  
They watched the bright colours of sunset make way for the darkness of night. The full moon shone directly over the lagoon, its light reflected on the waters.  
"I was born on the night of the full moon," he began, "my father wanted to name me Mani after the moon god but my mother wouldn't agree, because in our religion, the moon god is chased by a giant wolf. Mani and Hati, the one seeks to devour the other. She didn't like the idea of me being chased by wolves."  
"So they called you Erik," said Aethelflaed, trying not to laugh.  
"What's funny about that?"  
"Nothing, it's a perfectly sensible name, but it's not very like Mani." A laugh bubbled out of her, "I can imagine her thinking, oh no, I'm not calling him that. I've always wanted an Erik, so I'll find a reason to insist on it." She giggled softly.  
"You don't believe the reason she gave?" He was smiling at her indulgently.  
"Well as we always have the moon, the wolf is clearly not a good hunter. I suppose when it's not full you could imagine there are bites in it, but it always seems to escape, doesn't it?"

He gave a low laugh and moved closer to her. Aethelflaed was glad. An intense wave of desire had begun to take hold of her, which took her by surprise. She had been aware that there was a growing mutual attraction between them, an unspoken sense that each wished for the other's well being. The night air suddenly seemed charged all round them, as if it caught the atmosphere. She hardly dared look at him for fear her eyes betrayed her. She was conscious only of his presence beside her and the sound of his breathing which she found inexplicably exciting. A slight gesture, a little sigh and a tilt of the head towards him; a shy signal that she could pretend was nothing at all. His response came at once. Her hand was resting on the ground beside her and he covered it gently with his own. She could bear it no more and looked directly at him. His gaze was loving and tender, his eyes shining like moonlit water.

He bent towards her and kissed her lightly on the mouth, his soft beard just grazing her face. She leaned into him and they kissed properly, for the first time, for a long time. 

She could tell he was restraining himself. He didn't want to hurt or frighten her but her own desire was as strong as his. She had hated being with Aethelred; he had never tried to please her and she had simply endured him. But this was different, she was in the arms of a man who actually looked at her. Suddenly she realised she didn't want him to hold back, she would entrust herself to him and like the great wolf in the sky, she would possess her lovely moon-man. Their joining when it came was elemental and fierce.

Afterwards, she lay against him, nestling in his arm. "I don't know what happened just now. It was strange. They say the moon can cause madness, don't they?" She put a hand on his chest and gently trailed it along his skin. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, "It must have been your cakes," he joked, "you are too good a cook.... Oh of course! It _was_ the cakes! There was something in the flour..."  
"So you wouldn't have wanted me otherwise?"  
"I have wanted you almost since I first saw you, after the sickness ended. I've never, ever, seen a face like yours. It has haunted me since. As I was chopping the trees, when I was hunting for eggs...." He broke off, suddenly aware that she might not welcome this. Instead she sighed, "Well it may be the flour had an effect on us, but I'm sure this would have happened eventually. Oh, and you had two cakes as well." she giggled and gave him a light pinch. He kissed her again, " I don't think I could have borne it here alone with you if you did not like me."  
"Maybe that's why we were chosen. Whoever brought us here expected us to like each other."

"I think we should seal our new understanding with trust," He murmured, weaving his fingers into her golden hair. "I should probably tell you now that I am Erik Thurgilson, brother of Sigefrid." He seemed suddenly more tense.  
"You mean the two sword-Danes who took Eoferwic and Lunden?" She sounded matter of fact.  
"Yes" he stated bluntly. He had feared that she would shrink from him. His brother had called himself the Lord of Chaos and wreaked his full Viking fury on the northern town, crucifying priests and hacking down random Saxons who got in his way. Aethelflaed was silent but she didn't move from the warmth of his arm. He could still feel her breath on his body. Finally she spoke, "If we are to trust each other I had better tell you who I am. My family know me as Fleda, but my true name is Aethelflaed."  
He moved slightly in response, "Which one? There are several..."  
" _The_ one."  
"You mean Alfred's? You're the daughter of the king?" He seemed incredulous.  
She nodded without looking at him, "Mmhm, that one."

It was his turn to be silent. He gave a deep breath and laughed gently. "A Saxon warrior princess, lying here beside me." He raised his head to look deep into her eyes and his look was wondering and tender. "I couldn't tell you before," she explained, "I didn't know you well enough."  
"And now you do," he murmured, "now we do."


	9. Rumours of War

_Gloucester_

There were days when she wondered why she bothered. A local woman had birthed twins and Gudrun had offered help 'from someone in the palace'. It wasn't even as if Aethelflaed have maternal feelings towards this stranger's child. She didn't gush and coo at babies the way some women did, but she had to keep her milk flowing somehow, just in case. It was odd, she thought, she felt very little towards this baby, but fiercely protective of her child, a phantom she did not remember ever seeing or holding. Yet she must have loved it. Wherever she had been, she had worn good clothing, 'fit for a Danish queen' and such women often paid nurses to feed their infants. But she obviously hadn't. The child had been precious.

She had always said she preferred puppies and foals to tiny humans, so why did she feel so strongly about the idea of her own? The strength of her feelings surprised her.

She spent many hours in the chapel. Silently she knelt before the sanctuary light, imploring God, longing to know his will for her, for Mercia, for her father, and England. She would become old before her time, she thought. There were so many things to worry about.

Added to her worries, there were the two Danish warlords who had taken Eoforwic and marched on Lunden, seizing the coastal fort of Beamfleot and making it their base. Longships with snarling prows glided in and out, carrying men, leaving to collect more. Like a nest of hornets the growing army must be dealt with. Initially gold and silver would pay them not to attack, but eventually they must be faced. Her husband had offered silver and they had taken it, but Lunden was Mercian and she would take it back.

People always underestimated her. She had initially been regarded as the widow, someone who would soon be sidelined. She hadn't cared about heading the witan, keeping out the Danes was more important and to do that they would need more fighting men and better defences. Her fyrds would no longer consist of farm boys with reaping hooks. All men of fighting age would receive weapons training and the smiths would work night and day turning out swords and spearheads. Eventually they would take swords from their dead enemies, but in the meantime she had to build up a strong fighting force with herself at the head. 

After her first victory, which had in truth been little more than a skirmish, she had won the admiration of many nobles and she wasn't challenged when she took her seat at the Mercian council. At her first meeting she asked what provisions were made for setting up and defending the new walled settlements. When many of the ealdormen looked sheepish or made excuses, she coolly suggested that nothing could be more important, "My husband was Lord of the Mercians," she reminded them, "and in demanding these things I am simply carrying out his wishes." she was lying but no one could disagree, "As his widow I am the Lady of the Mercians and nothing is more precious or important to me than our survival as a kingdom and a people."

She would meet with these Viking warlords and see if they could come to terms. Having raided all the surrounding areas, they would eventually become desperate for food as more and more Danes joined them.


	10. The Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting again for the first time.....

_Kingdom of Mercia, 887 AD_

It had been raining and the ground was soft. A temporary meeting point had been set up, a large canvas roof on poles, with open sides. There was an electricity in the air. The two warlords were brothers, but the elder was the leader. Aethelflaed had learned that he was brutal and impulsive. He relied on his more steady brother for advice and planning. From all accounts, the younger brother was the more reasonable.

The brothers were already there when Aethelflaed and her company of warriors arrived. She rode one of her warhorses, an aggressive blue roan which snapped sideways at any horse which came too near. She cantered in and drew rein, her horse's fore hooves raking the air in response. The animal sidestepped and threw up its head in protest as one of her men ran to take hold of it. Aethelflaed needed no help in dismounting and strode towards the tent with two of her thanes. "Gentlemen, I hope you have not been waiting long?" 

They stood to face her. Partially shaved heads with painted scalps, braided hair and long beards held neatly by beard rings. A hint of black around the eyes, not recently applied. Today was not a day for fighting but speaking. Would they misjudge her, as so many men had done? Beorhtnoth and Cynewulf at her side as well as the large and imposing warriors just outside would lend a mailed fist to her words.

She unrolled a map and pointed out the shape of England, "England does not exist," said Sigefrid the older brother with an amused smirk. His eyes were black, like an eagle's. There was a madness there; he would not be easy to make peace with. His dark colouring was in contrast to his brother's blond locks and deep blue eyes. Erik had an honest face, she thought. There was a natural courtesy about him which surprised her. How could such different people be brothers?

She put out a hand to indicate Lunden on her map and began to speak."Lunden is easier to capture than hold," she began and then became aware that Erik had suddenly seemed startled by something. When she turned to look at him, still talking about Lunden, he seemed unmoved. Whatever it was had plainly not been important. 

Or it was so important that he was hiding it.

She had brought ale for refreshment. They had been speaking for nearly an hour and she felt tired. She'd fed the baby before leaving so there should be no distracting discomfort, but dealing with these two brutal men would take all her nerve. As the ale was poured, Sigefrid began a conversation with her thanes, probably intending to cut her out and intimidate her. To her surprise Erik motioned to her.  
What did he want and why the air of almost secrecy? She'd better show him that flirting would not work, and certainly would not give him Lunden to keep. She let him draw her to a private corner, "I noticed your ring," he began, "it is Norse I think. A courtesy to us perhaps?"  
She shook her head, "It was a gift, I took a fancy to it and like to wear it."  
He frowned slightly, "May I ask who you had it from?"  
Her heart started to beat faster - did this man recognise it? Was that what startled him earlier? Gudrun hadn't mentioned anything about it being Norse.

"I don't recall. I found it among my things one day - I am often given gifts and it must have been unaccounted for. Are you sure it's Norse?" her tone was light, dismissive. She had to be certain that he recognised it.  
He nodded "I wonder if I might look at it more closely - " she held out her hand but baulked when he tried to remove it. "You can see the pattern clearly if you twist it round." She told him firmly "Do you know what it is?"  
"I think we need to meet in private, there is much to discuss." He replied tersely.  
"Is there? I have a strange ring and no idea how I came to have it. What is there to talk about?" That a Viking, an enemy of her people and a pagan might be connected with her lost months filled her with shock and dismay.  
"When you get home lady, remove the ring and examine it. I think we should meet again." His face was grave, pale, the eyes wide and intent. He was definitely not flirting with her.  
Her mind raced, the others had finished their ale and wanted to resume the discussion. He couldn't send a note, Northmen didn't read or write, "Come alone, disguised as one of my spies. Say it is Erik Olafson and you will be admitted."

He nodded and withdrew to the table.

Her heart was pounding. What did he mean by 'examine' the ring? Did he really have some knowledge of where she'd been and what had happened to her? As they concluded their discussions, she was aware that he was studying her covertly. She deliberately focused on Sigefrid who was leading the discussions, and only when they were leaving she gave Erik a brief warm smile and looked directly into his blue eyes.

How else should she treat the man who might be the father of her lost child?


	11. Can I Trust You?

Marriage to Aethelred had required a good deal of acting from her. She now held herself together as she had trained herself to do. She had hoped that eventually someone would recognise the ring and be able to help her, but - a Viking! It seemed scarcely possible that she could even be in the same room as a Northman without hostility or suspicion. Could things be very different in the land of vanished memories? And did he remember those lost months? She had to keep all this to herself. Riding home she froze the thought of her conversation with Erik from her mind and concentrated on the company around her. She learned that Lord Sigefrid had asked about her horse, but he had spoken to her men, not her. She would never sell it to him.

There would be time to weep, perhaps, but it was not now. Meanwhile, what was unusual about the ring that she needed to examine it? It could only be something on the inside, which she hadn't considered.

Alone in her own chamber, she twisted the ring off her finger - the fourth of her right hand - and peered into the inner side. There was an inscription of a sort. It was in runes, but she knew runes. When she was younger, she and her friend Inga had learned to write runes in order to pass secret messages to each other. Even better, runes were redolent of paganism and therefore had been a secret means of rebellion. She went to a battered little book on the shelf. At the back was the alphabet which she had carefully written out many years ago. She hoped the runes on the ring were the same as the ones she had the key for. She squinted at the tiny inscription and realised that it was decipherable.

\+ ERIK + FLEDA

She stared at it: Fleda - her childhood nickname! There was no doubt now that the ring was hers, a personal gift perhaps. Or could she have had it made? And could 'Erik' really be Lord Erik Thurgilson who had waged brutal war on her Saxon people, whom she had met only that day? How did he know her ring had an inscription unless he had seen it before?

She had no spark of remembrance that would suggest they had met at any time. She shivered. Who was she, really? Did she truly know herself? Had she given herself to this man? The existence of a ring meant that they were in some sort of community. They weren't alone together in some isolated place. There were craftsmen nearby. Norse ones - could she have been in the Norse lands?

Was Lord Erik he a man she could feel attracted to? He was certainly handsome and polite, gracious even. Could she imagine herself falling for him if they had met in very different circumstances? It was possible, she supposed. Certainly she didn't recoil from him as she had from his brother. In fact, she rather looked forward to meeting him again.

She didn't have long to wait. 

Erik Olafson was duly admitted into the chamber where Aethelflaed had spoken to Adric the not-mad. He was dressed in a black woollen cloak and hood over a simple tunic. Aethelflaed indicated a chair. A platter of bread, cheese and cakes was on the table with a jug of wine. "It's simple," she explained, "you are a spy reporting back to me." Everyone in authority had spies, her father did, the brothers in Beamfleot no doubt did as well. It was expected. He was hungry. It was quite a ride from Benfleet to Gloucester. She sat for a moment and watched him silently. Not a glimmer of recognition came to her.

"I looked at the ring," she told him, "and read the inscription. How did you know there would be one?"

In reply he reached into the folds of his clothing and placed a ring on the table before her. It was larger than hers, but otherwise identical. She picked it up and checked the inscription. Silently she handed it back to him.  
"I don't know what to say," she said sadly. "I remember nothing, absolutely nothing."  
"Neither do I" He sighed. 

Aethelflaed felt a pang of disappointment; this big Northman was not going to provide the key to her missing months. "For some weeks I have quietly been trying to discover who else might have had the same experience." He told her "Falling asleep, waking up and finding differences in appearance, but remembering nothing. It's very troubling I admit. I have no idea who would do this, or who could. There are rumours of unearthly beings, fairies, whatever you wish to call them... but the rings are definitely Norse, so it would seem that wherever we were, it was in this world."

Aethelflaed told him about Adric and how he had been seen to disappear as if by magic and how he had later been laughed at and called drunk. "It's a problem for anyone who talks of this," he agreed.  
"Did you tell anyone - your brother?"  
He shook his head vigorously, "No, no - no one until you. I haven't met anyone else who has had this happen to them. It's a lonely feeling, isn't it, not being able to talk about it yet desperation to find out the truth?"  
Aethelflaed sighed, "My maid knows. She found Adric for me, but she's completely loyal. I don't know if she believes me, although I suspect she does. We have a strong trust, and she knows that I don't lie and am not fanciful.  
"I wonder if we can work out what happened on - the other side. We have a small amount of information. We know that three people have had this experience. It seems that some force, for a reason we don't know, was able to move us from our ordinary lives to another world or another part of this one. How long we were there isn't known, but Adric mentioned a healed scar. Did you notice anything like that?"  
"No scars, no, but when I woke up my hair had grown out. I was still in Norse clothing, although it wasn't 'mine'. It was of good quality, the kind a jarl might wear. My armour and weapons were missing however. What about you?"

Aethelflaed hesitated. Should she tell him about everything? In a way he had a right to know, but it was so... compromising. Could she trust him with information like that? The look on his face showed that he suspected there was more to her story. "Tell me," he said softly. She flashed him a nervous smile, a look that very few people had seen. "I would have to trust you. Can I?"  
"I swear, lady. " he rested his hands on the table and looked earnestly at her. So she told him about waking up in fine Norse clothing and the evidence of the child she must have borne. "I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl." she said sadly, barely holding back tears. He was silent, shocked. When he did look at her she saw his colour had risen. He must be very shy, she thought.

"Lady, I am so sorry." he whispered.


	12. The City of Spices

_The Other Side, 50 years earlier_

Again, something had changed. As she regained consciousness, Aethelflaed realised she was no longer on her bedroll under the shelter but nestled under covers on some kind of bed. The air was less rich, no longer fresh and salty but poorer, and smelled faintly of spices. Her eyes opened; the room was in semi darkness but a strong light came in through a square of tiny holes in the wall which fractured the beams onto the floor and wall opposite. A window opening then, covered by some sort of grid. To her relief, Erik was sleeping beside her. She watched his peaceful face, gazing at his long lashes and the sweetly concave nose. 

Well, they were no longer on the island, which was a relief to her. The idea of birthing a baby with only Erik to help had worried her. Two months had passed on the island, Erik had recorded the days. They had swum, lazed and made endless love... and she had fallen pregnant quite quickly. At least she hadn't had to cope with her monthly woman's burden, that was something. 

She and Erik had shared the inmost parts of themselves and found a closeness that she had never realised with possible. Did the beings who brought them here know that this would happen? The love potion in the flour showed what these unseen beings wanted from them. She and Erik had talked about it a lot, and decided that they must be part of some experiment. Erik had stood up, quite naked, and shouted, "Whoever you are, I defy you!" On the island they had no warm weather clothes so eventually they only bothered to dress lightly when they went into the scrubland. Otherwise they were like the first man and woman, before the knowledge of good and evil.

Aethelflaed wished she could feel guilt, but it was difficult. 

Erik's eyes fluttered and opened. "We've moved," she told him, "I think we should find out where we are. I hope there are some clothes for us."  
"I hear people," he mumbled.

Their room had a chest full of lightweight clothing which they gleefully examined. Erik was dismayed to find no leggings but having pulled back the shutter to look down at the people below, realised that the men in this place wore full-length tunics. Women were deeply veiled and wore sombre clothing. Both had soft sandals.

The chest had a purse with coins which Erik had taken. He also found a sharp knife in a jewelled scabbard. It was then that he realised his precious boots, armour and weapons were missing.

Later they called this place 'the city of spices'. People with sunburnt faces and bright clothing were everywhere. Tiny stalls lined the narrow lanes selling everything from spices to brightly coloured silks and everywhere was chatter, women called to each other from upper windows and children scampered among the stalls. Neither Erik nor the Princess could understand them. Donkeys piled with goods trotted along the narrow lanes and everywhere there was life.

"After the peace and silence of the island, this place seems very noisy, doesn't it?" She remarked as they took their first walk along the narrow streets.  
"It does," He replied, "and the air isn't as good either. It's so dusty, no wonder the women wear veils. But we won't have to cook, there are places selling food. Shall we try one?"  
"I'm not sure I feel like eating. The smells are making me sick. Don't you feel it?"  
"No - it's very different here to what we are used to, but the spicy scents are interesting. Let's sit down anyway."  
The food was cooked meat and vegetables wrapped in a soft bread. Erik was hungry and ordered two. He offered one to Aethelflaed. She tried to wave it away, puckering up her face in disgust.  
"You need to eat," he insisted "it's important for your health."  
That was Erik, always thoughtful. He was thinking of her and the baby. She tried to frown but her eyes betrayed her. How could one not love such a man? "One bite," he said, holding one of the filled breads up to her. She bit into it half-heartedly. Despite the smell, it tasted quite good.  
"The smell of the oil is dreadful. I'd really rather have bread and cheese." 

She ate it anyway.

"Do you worry about the people in your other life?" She watched him eat, he seemed content now she was eating.  
"Sometimes. As you once said, there's nothing we can do about anything. It sounds heartless perhaps, but the rest has done me good, my problems are now someone else's."  
She sighed. "I wonder what they did when they found I was missing? It's been almost three months now. They must think I've been killed, since no ransom demand ever came."  
Erik suddenly leaned forward and touched her arm, "Don't look now, but I think we're being overheard. The people at that table seem interested in us."  
"No one here speaks English, do they? " She turned to look in the direction he was carefully trying to point out and saw two fair-complexioned people and they were looking at her. 

Both of them stood up and walked towards Erik and Aethelflaed.


	13. Free Falling

_Near Gloucester 887 AD_

Aethelflaed pulled her cloak closer round her, glad of its warmth. The Mercian summer had not yet bloomed and she needed the extra layer.  
"Let's sit here, under the tree. I've brought food."

Erik always seemed hungry. She had a feeling he was overstretching himself. The camp at Beamfleot was filling up and it seemed that he alone was charged with feeding and equipping it. She couldn't imagine what the other brother did other than make threats and execute people.

They sat under the shade of the willow tree and watched the river. The Mercian countryside stretched out around them; wide and empty. It seemed a world away from the fighting and the noise and smells of village life. She could only imagine how a fortress full of Viking men must smell.

He sighed, then leaned back against the tree and savoured the air. Aethelflaed opened the saddle roll and pulled out a blanket, food and a skin of ale. "We'll have to share, I haven't any cups." She handed him the ale and he drank deeply.

She had a feeling that his tension was caused more by the demands of his growing army than anything she could tell him. He'd heard the worst of that. She broke off some bread, made a slit in it and slipped in some cheese and meat which he wolfed down.

"If they all eat like you, it must be exhausting having to feed them." She joked. He looked perplexed; he wasn't used to being teased. How serious he was!

It was time they got onto the reason for their meeting.

"So have you found out anything more?"  
"No," Terse, to the point. He sighed deeply, examined his bread and closed his eyes.  
"You look weary. I suppose there is no rest from your duties?"  
"Is there for any of us?"  
"Sometimes. I refuse to work on Sundays unless you heathens decide to attack. I've had this idea lately that I should buy a deserted island, somewhere warm with a little hut on it and a long beach with soft sand and a sea safe for swimming. I could catch some crabs when I am hungry, cook them over a little fire, and do absolutely nothing except wake, eat, swim and watch the sun go down."  
"Sounds perfect." he admitted.  
"Not a Viking in sight to spoil things either." Playfully, she tossed a small piece of bread at him. He gave a lazy smile, "I might just get into my ship and find you. I could do with a rest and your cooking sounds delicious."

She laughed contentedly.

He had come alone whereas she had brought a small company of armed men. These were now settled some way off, minding her horse and Erik's. They must think this spy was particularly good. He indicated them by a twist of his head, "If they knew who I was, what would they do?" he wondered.  
"Kill you, I suppose, though I might be merciful and ransom you to your brother. I need the silver, after our Lunden negotiations." The corner of his mouth twitched into a wry smile.  
"What would we have called it?" she suddenly said, her eyes gazing straight ahead, but seeing nothing.  
"Does it matter?"  
"To me it does. I find I can't think of 'it' without despairing. I need to give it a name. No one is truly alive if they have no name. A name is what makes us what we are. Do you have any strong feelings about any name? Your parents? Brother? Yourself?"  
He shook his head. "I've never thought about it." He admitted.  
"Girls think about this sort of thing a lot. When I was very young I had a book of tales about Sigurd the Dragon Slayer. My best friend and I made up our own stories about him, most of which were very silly and quite funny. We would laugh for hours. We used to say that when we grew up we would each call our sons Sigurd. If 'it' was a boy, I might well have picked that name. Especially as it seems we were in the North lands."  
"Sigurd..." He pondered that name, testing it.  
"I think Sigurd Erikson sounds strong. A good name. I was the same person 'there' that I am here, presumably, so I would have thought of it. You wouldn't have objected?  
"No - I don't think so. As you say it goes well with my name." She could tell he was a little startled by the patronymic, 'son of Erik'. Perhaps it only just struck him that he was a father. Probably a father. Very probably.  
"And if it was a girl?" He had finished his bread and meat and accepted another.  
"I might have thought of naming her for Inga, but Ingibjorg is a heavy name and we aren't such great friends now."  
"Your family?"  
"Well I've always thought Aelfwynn sounds pretty, after my father, but in a Norse community I don't know."  
"It is a nice name." He agreed bleakly. Did he only now realise what had been taken from them?  
"Maybe Sigrid." She thought aloud.  
"A female dragon slayer. Like her mother." He gave her a soft smile. Aethelflaed's heart gave an involuntary leap. There was something about this man, she could understand how her 'other self' might have fallen for him. She was falling for him now. "Those rings we have, are they betrothal rings?"  
"I would assume so." He had finished eating and was watching the river; it was very high and flowing strongly.  
"I wonder what sort of ceremony we had."  
He shrugged, "If we were in the North, then according to the customs of my people."  
"You sacrifice animals, I wouldn't like that. Not a horse or a dog, I wouldn't have let it happen."  
"It was probably a pig." He said quietly.  
"Oh" She was quiet, thinking. Alone in a heathen culture, with only this man to protect her, that's what would have happened. Could she have agreed to raise a pagan child? Most likely she baptised it in secret, but she couldn't tell Erik that. 

They'd have to go soon, she would return to her home and he to his. She found herself wanting to delay the moment. As she opened her mouth to say something, he spoke, "You are well, apart from missing the, child?"  
"I'm fine thank you." The details would remain with Ceolnoth. He seemed satisfied with her answer. There was nothing he could do if she were not, though, was there? "Why do you ask?"  
He shifted uneasily, "I feel I am in some way responsible. I cannot understand how I could have let it happen! I must have known we would come back, so why did I burden you with all this? I'm sorry, lady, for not taking better care of you."

Aethelflaed was silent. She could not bring herself to say anything, and she turned away her face. No man had ever said these things to her. Aethelred certainly never did. It was too much to bear, she could stand his formality, his alien customs, but his kindness? She buried her head in her hands, trying not to sob, but all the suppressed sorrow, frustration, agony, fear and rage were too strong. "I'm s-sorry" she stuttered. He didn't move. After his sweetly spoken apology she could have imagined he would comfort her, but he did not.

"Sigurd means Sigefrid, doesn't it? Another form of the name." she tried to calm herself by thinking of something else but it was not possible. Her tears ran down her face and she hadn't brought a cloth to wipe her nose. Why was he just sitting there?  
"It is," He agreed.  
"I need you to comfort me. You're supposed to be my husband. I'm upset, can't you tell?"

He moved closer and made to adjust her cloak around her shoulders, a light touch of sympathy, not the hug she had wanted, murmuring softly to her "Your men might misunderstand. If I'm to be your spy I can't be seen to be familiar. They would talk." He pulled out a crumpled cloth and held it to her face, letting her press against his hand. "As part of my work you have asked me to find a missing friend." He suggested "and you are upset at the thought of where she might have gone."

Erik was so thoughtful. She no longer had any doubts as to what had happened to her heart in the world of lost memory. She had just fallen in love with him, all over again.


	14. The Messengers

_City of Spices, 50 years earlier_

"May we join you?" Norse spoken among a babble of strange tongues.  
"By all means." Erik smiled. They had sat down already. "How did you get here?" he asked.  
"The same way as you. We were taken." The first stranger looked around to ensure there was no one overhearing them.  
"Where are we?" Erik asked. "We've been away from our homes for two months and are still no wiser as to why we are here, and how long we will remain."

Aethelflaed suddenly felt queasy. She didn't speak Norse but had a feeling these men knew something significant and Erik would be sure to find out. But her body was rebelling; nausea and tiredness washed over her. "I don't feel well, I think I'll go back to our room." she looked pointedly at Erik, "You need to stay and find out what you can."

He nodded and gave her the key to their room. It was a short walk away and he watched her heading through the crowd, tall among the local people, and then she was at the doorway and had let herself in.  
"My name's Erik," he supplied, summoning a waiting boy to the table and ordering some drinks.

Back in the room, Aethelflaed felt less nauseous, the smells were muted now, and she flopped onto the bed and fell instantly asleep. She awoke to the sound of knocking. Erik needed to be let in.

"What did I miss? Were they taken like us? Did they ride in a sky ship and live on an island like we did?" 

Erik poured himself some water and sat on the bed. "Their names are Dimitri and Petter and they are what are called 'messengers'. Everyone has a different experience when they are taken. It depends on the reason. Creatures from another world, the Stribes, who have lived far longer than we have, made flying ships and came to our world. They are curious about our people so they decided to move them from their usual homes and see how they, we, behave. I would guess you and I were chosen because we are both fairly high status individuals, but from peoples hostile to each other. They watch us from above the clouds. Their own ships can fly above the sky."  
"Up with the stars?" Aethelflaed was fascinated and curious.  
"Yes. All the places they use are real and exist on our world. Sometimes they are altered, so on the island we did not come across snakes or biting insects, and the sun never burned us."  
"That was strange...."  
"Sometimes several people are taken at once and put together, to see how they form groups, choose a leader, that kind of thing. I'm guessing with you and me there was more of an interest in how we would react to each other. Remember that flour?"  
"They wanted us to be together - and make a child? Did you ask those men what would happen to it?"  
"Of course. They weren't sure but they said these sky creatures aren't cruel, they are just curious about us. They like to send us to different places to see how we behave. Dmitri said that we are in a land south of Frankia, travelling overland you reach it across a narrow sea. I told the two men that you are not happy here, the smells affect you, and the dust and dryness are less pleasant than on the island. I also said that I am concerned about your health, and who will attend you later on. They agreed to tell our 'captors' all this."  
"But who are they? Did you find out what they did to become 'messengers'? Have they seen these Stribe creatures?"  
"They would not tell me much about that. I can tell you that people can become messengers in exchange for remaining on the other side. They can pass messages from us and they are also expected to watch us. Most of the time they leave us alone."  
"Did they say when we would return?"  
"It varies, depending on how interesting the people are. Dmitri is from Rus and Petter is a Northman who had been a hired warrior in Rus. They want to remain on this side because they were outlawed in Rus. They might not stay in this place always, but they say they like the warmth. I feel differently - I find it too hot, although it is interesting to see how other people live."  
"So you are saying if we knew where we were that we could simply travel home?"  
Erik shrugged. "That isn't possible - we have been sent into the past, about fifty years, to prevent meeting our 'other' selves. So whatever date it is here, we haven't yet been born, in our other, real, lives. The idea of being watched is not one I like, but as we can do nothing about it I think we should ignore it. If we give them what they want, they will send us back more quickly."  
"You want to go back?" She looked tentatively at him.  
  
Erik thought for a while, running his hand over his hair and feeling the regrowth on his once-shaven scalp. He sighed, "Part of me does not. But there's something else.... which would make this less painful."  
"Oh?"  
"When the time is ready to send us back to our old life, our memories are wiped clean and we wake up moments after first falling asleep, so we won't know anything about our time here. "  
"No!"  
"Listen!" he had her hands in his and looked into her eyes, "You know we could never be together on the other side, in our world. But if we never remember, it will be as if nothing of this ever happened. So we won't feel sadness."  
"The baby - our baby. You saying it will just vanish? And where to?"  
"I don't know. The messengers say that everything is taken care of and we should not trouble about it."  
"I want to speak to these messengers myself. I must know what will happen to it. They can hardly send me back pregnant. It would ruin me. I hope you told them how angry I am."  
He sighed, "We can't make enemies of such a powerful race. The best we can hope for is that no harm comes to us - the three of us."


	15. New Memories

_Gloucester_

Memories.... not all of them were lost. She recalled again the sight of Erik Thurgilson riding away from the riverbank. He had given her a curt wave, respectful, the way a spy would behave, and then he had turned his horse towards Beamfleot and away from her.

Away from her. Out of her life. 

Aethelflaed tried to keep him out of her thoughts but it was difficult and she found herself wanting to daydream about him, to imagine what a life with him would have been like. Her stolen memories denied her the knowledge of his love. Her lips which he had kissed.... felt no different to the way they always had. If her body remembered his caresses it wasn't revealing anything. Could one be jealous of oneself? Her other self, the one which had known him, made her ache with envy.

Meeting him again made no sense - there was nothing more to discuss, and everything else was speculation and pondering. If either of them found out anything more, then they would meet. She would send him a message or he would appear as her spy again, but the reality was that there was little more they could know. She might as well give up on feeding the stranger's baby and resign herself that her own was lost to her.

Did Erik ever think of her? Aethelflaed absent-mindedly held her hand to her mouth and kissed the cool metal on her finger. She couldn't bring herself to take it off; he had given it to her. Probably. Throughout all her meetings with him she had been careful to appear practical, a Saxon princess who needed information. Even when she had wept, she hadn't lost her dignity - she was always controlled. It was part of her training; she had to be always strong. 

Yet she found herself longing for him, longing to give it all to him, to let him take everything and sort it out for her. He had that air of authority which inspired trust, even if he was her enemy. 

He was not her enemy. That was the reality and she had ceased to think of him in that way ever since their first meeting under that canvas roof. Now she longed for him day and night; as she read messages from her ealdormen, as she discussed the needs of her army, as she planned the foundation of another burh. All the time, at the back of her mind, like a stolen treasure well-hidden, was the memory of his face, the sound of his voice, how his hand had felt when it touched hers. 

She had borne his child but did not remember the closeness of his body, his warmth and the way he touched her when they were alone together, each to each other. What did his skin feel like? She didn't know. Constantly tormenting herself about it would send her into madness; there must be a second forgetting - she must put him entirely out of her mind.

He was everything she could ever want, and nothing she could ever have.

Did he feel anything towards herself? Like her, he was very controlled. His manner had always been gentle and concerned. She smiled wryly - she had no idea that a Northman could be like him. She had thought they were all brutal and remorseless killers. He had never shown her anything of this. She remembered his apology for not taking better care of her and the memory of it caused the tears to sting her eyelids. He was so unlike Aethelred. She didn't have to pretend to be polite. He must surely have felt it as well, this naturalness between them, a sympathy of souls which made talking so easy. She never had to think of what to say, as she so often did with people she didn't know well. He had to have felt it too. 

They had loved each other once, in some lost lifetime. Could they meet and love each other in any other time or place? Would there ever be a time or place when she didn't want him?


	16. Fallen

Even in the solitude of her own sorrow, there were moments of happiness. Aethelflaed had been looking forward to the Gloucester fair. Her appearance would be a highlight of the event and she was glad that she could do something which would cost her so little.

"I'll ride Bluebell," she told her head stableman who shook his head doubtfully.  
"A fair isn't the place for a war horse," he opined sullenly, knowing that the lady had her own mind and would not be put off.  
Aethelflaed owned a stud farm where she bred impressive horses. Those intended for battle all had flower names. It irritated and confused the fighting men and this amused her greatly.  
"Well the horse has been a bit feisty lately. Too many oats, so he's in the field right now. You sure that Windwalker wouldn't be a better choice? She's so gentle and there are bound to be children who will want to pat your horse."  
"Bluey won't bite, and I can make sure one of my men holds him at a safe distance. He's big, and I want to be seen. I'll wear my helmet, it will be fine."

Despite having been in the field and without oats, Bluebell was still feisty. Aethelflaed leapt onto him and felt his muscles bunch in readiness. She felt at her most alive when on a good horse and this one had no terrors for her, she had known it as a foal. She left the yard at a fast pace, followed by her men at arms. There would be a good gallop on the way to the fair. Bluebell fought for his head and she relaxed the reins, feeling him gather speed like a panther.

Today she wouldn't think about Erik. But even telling herself that brought his name to mind and she found herself wondering about him. What would he do today? What did those people ever do but kill and steal? He was her enemy but still she wanted him. Not since her marriage had she thought of any man in that way. Her one remembrance was of Aethelred and how he turned even pleasant things into an endurance. It had put her off all men - the thought of a man in her bed had never appealed to her until now. She had a feeling that Erik would be quite different. Had her other self enjoyed him in that way? She must have, from all the evidence. There was not a mark on her that suggested he ill treated her, and plenty that indicated the reverse.

Well, unless he sought her out again, she would never know. 

Gritting her teeth, she drove her heels into Bluebell's side and aimed him at the hedge. he tossed his head in surprise and mistook the stride, leaping too early and catching the sharp twigs on his underside. The powerful horse nosedived and flipped forward in momentum, throwing Aethelflaed into the air. Both horse and rider landed heavily. Her last thought was to hope that Bluebell was not going to be seriously hurt.

 

Her eyes opened. She was back in her Gloucester palace. Surely she should not be there? "What happened?"  
Gudrun came into view, "You fell off your horse on the way to the fair. Luckily you had on that helmet but you were still knocked out."  
Aethelflaed closed her eyes, her head did hurt. She had a vague memory of falling, and that she had not been concentrating. It had been Erik's fault again. Or rather hers. Thinking about him evoked a feeling of warmth and happiness. Surely he would soon come through the doorway and take her back home.

Home? Where was that, exactly? Here was indeed home, but she had another one, and it was there that she longed to go.

The longhouse, nestling on a high point in Eriksdale, surrounded by pine forests, upriver from Jöttnafjorðr. But that was then... the last time she was happy. When was that exactly? Dimly, through her aching head, she recalled a central hearth fire and women spinning and tending the cooking pot, while she sat in a chair that rocked, cradling a sleeping baby. Erik was also there, wasn't he? He came in from hunting reindeer, swathed in furs, his boots muddy, but he was smiling at her and she thought contentedly that he was all hers.

Erik and herself. Now she remembered.


	17. The Longhouse

_Norway, fifty years earlier_

It was the cold air that told her they were no longer in the city of spices. Cold, but fresh and exhilarating; it smelled of mountains and forests and glaciers. They must have been moved again.

They were moving but not in a sky ship. This time they were in a horse-drawn sleigh but she wasn't cold. Thick furs covered the two of them as they woke groggily from their sleep. Someone else had the reins and there seemed to be a purpose to their journey. She nestled further into the furs and dozed, hoping that Erik wouldn't be nauseous again.

He wasn't. "I think we are in the northlands," he said, "inland, not coastal, and not very settled. I see a few simple homes, but nothing larger."

She stirred, "Perhaps we are being taken to a jarl's house? I hope there won't be any fighting, but I suppose there will and you will have to do it." She gave a long sigh.  
He extended a protective arm along the back of her seat. "We'll be fine," he said softly pulling her closer.

The driver paused the sleigh alongside a longhouse. "It's all ready for you," he said simply. Aethelflaed noticed a trail of smoke coming from the centre of the thatch and quailed for a moment. What if the inhabitants didn't like the two of them?

Erik jumped down and carefully handed Aethelflaed from the sleigh.

"I'm taking these round the back," the driver said, "they belong here."  
Erik and Aethelflaed entered the building and found it empty. There was a good fire in the central hearth and something cooking in the pot above it. A long oak table was set for a meal. Wooden platters, pottery bowls, spoons, a jug of ale and two cups.

"They were waiting for us. I wonder who else lives here?" Aethelflaed wondered aloud.

"I don't see anyone else. Perhaps they are all out hunting and foraging?" He strode to the door opposite the entrance. It opened up to a back yard. "There is a stable with the dun horse and a shed with the sleigh in. The driver has disappeared. I am thinking he must have been a messenger."  
"We should have asked him more! He spoke English and not Norse so not a local man."  
"Who knows? Anyway, we are meant to be here. This is to be our new home. The Stribes must have decided to send us somewhere quite different - the messengers will have taken my comments to them."  
"Do you recognise it? Are we from your homeland?"  
"I would say not. I think we are a lot further north than my home."  
"At least we won't be entirely alone as on the island, or in the heat and dust of the city of spices. This is a very large place for just two people though."

The long house was exactly that - one principal room heated by a central hearth. At one end was a small curtained section for storage and on the other was a narrow corridoor with two rooms off it. The first one opened onto the central chamber and contained a bed, a freestanding lamp, a chest and a chair. The second had an arrangement of narrow beds and opened onto the corridoor.  
"Our room can be the first one. It'll be warmer and it's only for two people anyway." Erik looked contented with it all. Aethelflaed reflected sombrely that she might well give birth in this chamber, but it was cheerful and there were many worse places.


	18. I Remember You

_Gloucester 887 AD_

He arrived quickly, as she knew he would. Sitting up and newly-dressed, Aethelflaed received him in her most private chamber. Well, he was her husband, wasn't he? She was seated at a makeshift table at the end of the room, a half-eaten plate of food in front of her.

She indicated the empty chair. "You have no idea how it feels to remember.." She said simply. He nodded briefly and eyed her plate. Did he ever eat? She slid it towards him invitingly. He looked at her, "Can you tell me?" he said softly, reaching for a piece of bread.

"I wouldn't have brought you here otherwise," she told him. "I was thrown from my horse and unconscious for several hours. When I woke, I found I could remember the other side. The memory is like a parcel which needs to be untied and opened. Even now I'm not sure I know all of it - memories are often jumbled and unclear anyway, but I believe I know most of what happened."  
"I'd be interested to know. It would save me the need to hit my head against something very hard." He was close to finishing her platter.  
"I think you should ask me questions, that way I will tell you the things you wish to know."  
"The child? Was it ours?"  
"A boy, and we called him Sigurd Erikson. He was quite beautiful - fair with blue eyes."  
"And the rings?"  
"You bought them from a silverworker in Jöttnafjorðr who also inscribed them. The pattern is the wolf and moon, Mani and Hati. You told me the story about it, and it came to have a special meaning for us. We had not long been living in the northlands and decided to make vows to each other. In the end we did it in private - I had explained about the Christian thinking of marriage, that it's binding if two people make promises. You weren't baptised so it is probably not valid, but it made sense to us and we felt that we were no longer lying to people about ourselves. We did what we could to seal our joining together. I didn't want a public ceremony as it would have alerted people that we weren't married and had a child on the way."  
He nodded. "So those rings would only have been known to two people, you and me. I had wondered if they were a mark of a group."  
"No, betrothal rings, the only sign of our life together. We had been warned that our memories would be washed, and you felt this to be a good thing, but I did not. I wanted to remember and perhaps find you again in our world. We must have been sent back without warning as we were wearing our rings and had on our usual clothing."  
"They were very fine. How did we come by such costly things?"  
"We were in the northlands about six months - Sigurd was born there. Because of the cold, I persuaded you to grow your hair out, which is why, when you awoke back in this time, your hair was different. Anyway, At first it was just the two of us but soon other people joined us and some built houses nearby, so the dale became a small village. They called it Eriksdale. You were the leader, organising hunting parties - there was always enough food - and people came to accept you as overlord. I didn't realise that Vikings also attacked their mainland, but you brought together people as a force and kept them away. We even had one Viking join us. 

"You used your knowledge from your old life to help the scattered people of the area. We had some luck - a shipwrecked trader sought refuge with us but died of injuries. He told you where his cargo had been hidden and you sold it. We had planned to set up farms, and I was going to breed horses but we were sent home before we could do much. I would have stayed there forever I think, even though it was so wild and remote. We made friends and had a real home." She could hardly keep the longing from her voice.  
"But if we were there only six months, how did we produce Sigurd?"  
"We were on the other side almost a year. First we landed on an island ...." and she told him about the first two places and how they met the messengers.

"How soon did we - get together?" he spoke quietly to his empty platter.  
"I'm ashamed to tell you," she told him. "I think I should order you something more to eat."  
"So we got together on the island. I'm guessing more than a few days.... there must have been a lot to do, exploring, finding food, shelter..."  
She shook her head and blushed. "Hardly more than a few hours really. It helped that these creatures put something in the flour they gave us, but we agreed it would have happened anyway." she looked down at her hands, twisting the silver ring on her finger.  
"It must have been a serious bond. I can't see myself treating a king's daughter - or anyone else - in such a casual way."  
"It was - it was real. We weren't just passing the time - alone in that place, it didn't matter that we were Saxon and Dane. That was meaningless and too far away to matter."  
"So if you remember," he said slowly, still not looking at her, "you still have the same feelings - I would guess?"

She was silent. Why was he asking this? "Nothing has changed, only the place. I am exactly the same person that I was, and to be honest, you are too, although you may not realise it. You have the same way of speaking. Even the way you frown when you are thinking is the same - you are the person you were on the other side. Only our worlds have changed. We are enemies again, or supposed to be."

"Are we?" Finally he looked up. When she found the courage to do the same she saw that his eyes were glowing. Even without his memories, he had fallen for her again, exactly as she had fallen for him.


	19. Remembrance

So it had not been possible to wipe away all her memories, after all. She lay back in the pillows and sighed deeply.

Erik still loved her. Some things can't be changed. She had wanted to show him, there in her bedchamber, because he had no memory of it, just his newly-found love for her. He had refused, despite his longing, because of the 'consequences' as he called it. He was still in guilt for Sigurd.

He had left her reluctantly, sadly, promising to visit again but both of them uncertain as to when. Being together was not possible, outside her memories. Not in this world.

They had been together almost the whole time on the other side. She now knew what it was like to be loved by him. That he didn't hurt her, and that the first time, under the night sky, she felt her whole being aflame as if she were among the stars and the universe ignited in sparks all around her. She had not known that love could be like this. Perhaps if her memories had been forever locked, she would never have known.

He had healed her of Aethelred. Cruel, cruel to deny her the memory of this. Nestling against him in the crook of his arm she had asked him if she was like a boy, a duty to ride, and only because Alfred should have grandchildren. Erik's astonishment reassured her, as his disgust at the idea restored her confidence. He had come to know every inch of her body, savouring it lovingly, as she had learned about his. He didn't mind where she touched him, and the more she did, the more he liked it.

It had been bliss.

They had been in the long house many months and it was more of a real home than the shelter on the island or the private room in the city of spices. Here is where Aethelflaed had felt they belonged. In time, she had planned to build herself a tiny chapel and find a priest to minister to her; he could bring her books as well so she might as well be back in Winchester. 

Before the snows came, Aethelflaed had wanted to ride horses again. The two of them rode out, exploring the land and finding the coastline together. But as she grew larger, Erik decided that it was too much of a risk. It was the cause of their only big disagreement.

"I am safer on a horse than off it," she had insisted, "and these are just ponies, not the warhorse stallions I used to ride. What harm could possibly come to me?"  
"Fleda, you must not think of sitting on a horse until after the child is born. This is one time I must insist. I have never forbidden you to do anything up to now. You are not to ride out. It is madness to put yourself at risk in this way." He put his hands on her shoulders and stared her down. Frustration made her irritable, "You can't forbid me, I'm Alfred's daughter. Who are you?"  
"Your husband."  
"That's debatable. I won't take orders from you. I have led armies.... "  
"I know - though your men never let you anywhere near a shield wall. I'm responsible for you now, and I can't allow you to risk your life in this way. It's only for a little while."  
She glared at him, furious. Except for Aethelred, she had always got her own way. She felt herself giving in and the helplessness of it brought her close to tears of frustration. Suddenly Erik softened - perhaps she had won him round?  
"Fleda, if you do this for me, I promise I will make it up to you. How about we go out in the sleigh every day instead? I will drive you wherever you would like to go. Yes?"

She pondered this. A weight suddenly seemed to lift from her mind; Erik understood her like no one else. He knew that she needed something in return, and this was his compromise. It gave her dignity and a reward for her sacrifice. She enjoyed travelling in the sleigh, nestling among the furs and fleeces.

"Thank you, I'd like that." she agreed. The longhouse had been filling up with people, it would be good to have some time each day with just Erik.

He was as good as his word and took her for a sleigh ride every day when it wasn't raining or snowing. As the time for the birth drew closer, so the weather got colder. It was winter time. As a precaution, Erik had arranged for a midwife to stay with them, along with a personal maid and both would share the other bed chamber.

Aethelflaed went into labour during the day, when the men were all out. The midwife gave her a drink to take and suddenly she was asleep and awake again with the baby, clean and wrapped up beside her. How could it have been that easy?

Unless... the drink she was given... "You - gave me that to drink. You are a messenger?" Aethelflaed had enough Norse to ask basic things. The midwife nodded, "It saved you the pain. They took you to their ship and delivered your child. All was well and you were returned here safely."  
"Why?"  
"The others wish you no harm, lady. They do not often interfere, but in some cases it is necessary to preserve life. You die here and they cannot return you to the time you were taken. The life force is needed. They did not wish you to die, you are needed by your people."

Aethelflaed thought with irony that she could have ridden the ponies after all - though even then Erik would have forbidden it, and for some reason she didn't like to go against him. He cared for her too much for her to disregard him.

Erik had been so proud of his little son, carrying him into the hall and showing him off to the people there and receiving their good wishes. People brought kind gifts, including a wonderful carved cradle.

She had never really liked small children and certainly not babies. When her mother produced each new one, Aethelflaed had kept out of the way in private disgust. Now, with Sigurd, she felt a new emotion, which took her by surprise. She wasn't able to get up much yet, the Stribes had obviously delivered the child in the traditional way, or close to it, but she could cuddle and feed the baby, and that is what she resolved to do, turning away all offers of a wet nurse. 

Erik was concerned, she may have been spared the pain but not the after effects and she was weak.

"I'm not going to have someone else feed my child," she insisted, "he's mine and my milk is the best for him."

He nodded, seeing the logic of it, but kept a woman on standby just in case. Meanwhile, nothing must be spared for her own comfort. He couldn't bring her figs or coconut milk, but she got everything that was possible.

When Sigurd was a month old, Erik took them out in the sleigh, the baby wrapped so thickly that his face was hidden from view. 

Aethelflaed was so happy she thought she would burst with joy.


	20. Going Back

Erik Olafson came through the curtained doorway and walked into Aethelflaed's arms. They hugged and kissed until she broke free. 

"The messengers say that my plan has been agreed. We're going back to our house in Eriksdale! We'll appear about two hours since we left, and they will think we have been for a walk. Wear your jarl's clothing."  
"What about my memory? It would help if I recognised some of the people who will know me..."  
"They may be able to restore some of it, but, short of a knock to the head, there isn't a lot they can do." She caught his hand, "This way we can be together, find our son and build a life. Those people needed your help, your life was so much more than raiding and stealing."

It was the only way they could be together. 

"If you go," Gudrun had said simply, "I will come too. My place is with you."  
"It still would be. I could be gone for fifty years but return after a couple of hours and you would never know."  
"What, your body as it was before? What about the healed wounds, the grown hair? This means changes."  
"There is a way, the messengers themselves use it. They even keep their memories. I would become a messenger myself, if the Stribes agree."  
"For how long would you live there? Twenty years? Longer? I will come with you, I am Norse, this is my world."  
Aethelflaed smiled, "Then I'll bring some other things - Bobo, one of my stallions and my book of hours. Let's make plans."

And there they were, standing in the vale, inhaling the scent of the pine trees and listening to the call of the seabirds. Eriksdale! 

Aethelflaed, Erik and Gudrun walked towards the longhouse and its welcoming plume of smoke. Bobo and the stallion walked alongside them until they reached the entrance and were met by one of the local women.

"You're just in time for some stew," Sigrun greeted them, "and I think the young master is hungry too." Erik peered curiously at the bundle in her arms and gazed at his son. If she didn't know otherwise, Sigrun would have said that Lord Erik looked as if he'd never seen his son before. The cold must be getting to him. Her attention was diverted when a large white wolf came into the house with the lord and lady.

"Oh don't mind him," Aethelflaed explained, "I've taken on another member of my household, and the dog comes with her."

The animal padded ahead of them, positioned itself in front of the fire and closed its yellow eyes in comfort.

They were home.


	21. Coming Home

_Eriksdale, fifty years earlier_

Whether he was playing the spy or the overlord at Eriksdale, Erik was always a good actor. Aethelflaed had drawn him a plan of the long house and the surrounding huts, and she had told him the names of the people he would need to know and recognise. For a while, he would be an especially good listener.

She had hoped that once they were back in the longhouse, Erik's memory might be stirred but when she asked him he shook his head. They had gone into their private chamber to rest before dinner. Aethelflaed busied herself stowing some of her treasures such as her book of hours. 

"I will have to take a look at the place tomorrow," muttered Erik, "try to understand what needs to be done. If we are going to be here for many years then I must start planning now. Perhaps one day we will have a hall with stairs to upper chambers."  
"And a wooden floor so I can wear soft shoes indoors. That would be a luxury."  
"And tonight you will be mine, _kaereste_. Just as I need to become familiar with this place, I will have to learn about you too."

Aethelflaed was aware that his willingness to cross to the other side had stemmed from his loneliness and longing for her; he had only her word for it that he had enjoyed living there. That night it would seem to him that he was lying for the first time with the mother of his child. He would need to learn all over again about the things that pleased her. Would he still have the same attitudes about letting the small hunting dogs on the bed, or having Sigurd sleep there rather than his cot? Even so, tonight would be theirs.

"You realise that we slept here last night?" she said to him as they got ready for bed, "although to us it seems more like months."  
"I have longed for this night - finally you will be mine and there will be no more forgetting."  
"It must have been about a year ago that I was first yours and I have been most of the time since, repeatedly." She teased as he wrapped his arms around her.  
Relief... Here she was in the place she was meant to be, with the man she needed at her side. There were no regrets.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Aethelflaed remained on the other side for forty years. There were many changes at Eriksdale as Erik found ways of strengthening and expanding the tiny community. The farmland was not especially good, but provided grazing and a few crops. Over the first winter he built a ship, for trading rather than raiding, and this was the basis for his first success. 

As men and their families joined him, he trained up a force to act as a militia against pillaging, and this came to the ear of the king of Norway who took him into his service for a time and rewarded him well. Erik became one of his most trusted Jarls and advisors. 

When Erik was absent Aethelflaed organised the local fighting men. She also set about expanding and fortifying the village. So many families joined them that their homes spread into the woodland, forming the settlement of Fledasholt.

Erik's dream of a great hall took shape five years after their return to the other side. They kept the longhouse for guests and as extra quarters for their household. Fleda, as she was known, became renowned as a wise and generous woman in her own right. She brought a couple of monks to act as her chaplains and they set up a rudimentary school. Their kindness to the poor ensured their popularity and it was one of the few places where Christians and Pagans lived together in harmony.

Fleda bred many horses from the one stallion she had brought with her. They were powerful but sturdy like the nordic ponies they also descended from, and they sold very well. One of the finest was sent as a gift to the King of Norway. 

She and Erik had five children: Sigurd, Ingrid, Friedrun, Einar and Gudrun. They all learned to read and write, and were expected to help in the community. All of them learned weapons skills, could catch and cook their prey, and had a love both of learning and the outdoors. 

Fleda and Erik grew old together until, worn out by a life of hard work and the trials of living in a harsh landscape, Erik died in Fleda's arms, surrounded by four of his children and their families. Einar, who was a great fighter, was away fighting for the king.

Fleda grieved for her beloved Mani, her moon-man, and buried him simply in the yard of the little wooden stave chapel she had had built. He was mourned greatly in the surrounding villages. He had never recovered his lost memory, but in time it had not mattered.

Eventually it was time for Aethelflaed to return to her people. Her two older children and their families went with her along with her faithful maid Gudrun and a descendant of her beloved Bobo. Einar, who alone kept to the old ways of the Pagan religion, became the overlord at Eriksdale and ran it the way his father had. He was a man of imposing stature with his father's blond hair and blue eyes. He had a quick temper, like his uncle Sigefrid, although he was never cruel. Erik and Fleda's descendants remain in the region to this day.


	22. Waking Up for the Last Time

_Gloucester, Kingdom of Mercia, 887 AD_

As she had expected, Aethelflaed woke up in her Gloucester palace, lying on the great bed she had shared with Aethelred. Gudrun was already awake and busying herself about, giving orders.

"How long have we been away?" the princess asked groggily.  
"A couple of hours. I find it very pleasing to be back in my younger body." Observed her maid. Aethelflaed laughed and held out her arm, "Indeed, and I think I have lost weight as well! Time to get back into my old clothes."  
These were folded in the oak chest, exactly as they had been left on the previous day, nearly forty years ago, still smelling freshly laundered. Aethelflaed flexed her limbs, rejoicing in her suppleness and youth.

Had it really been only a short while ago that she had held Erik in her arms for the last time? They were both old then. She shut her eyes and remembered. Erik, her beloved enemy and husband. She was nineteen again, but had lived nearly sixty years. An old head in a young body. In her mind she saw him as he was when they first met, all those years ago, a few weeks ago. Erik waking up from drugged sleep, heaving into a latrine. Erik standing naked on the beach, proud and unashamed, like Apollo or Baldur. He had been so beautiful - he was always beautiful, even in later life. Women still noticed him and he was flattered by it, but his heart was hers. His last words to her had been of hope. "Go, and fight for your land," he had told her, "make it a place where everyone can live in peace." And so she would. She would use the knowledge and experience she had gained on the other side to bring about her father's dream. England would be a place where trade and next year's crops could grow. For that they needed peace.

The messenger had been efficient. Sigurd and Ingrid and their families had been found quarters nearby and would soon be taken into the royal household. In time, they would have land of their own. It seemed strange to have children who looked and indeed were, older than oneself. Never having lived on this side, the children had no younger selves to return to. The nineteen-year old Aethelflaed would take her forty-year-old son as an advisor. She used her memory of her time in Eriksdale to fortify the young burhs and to build up her army and the local militia. 

Aethelflaed let her army in a series of victories against the invaders. She pushed back the borders of Mercia until the Danelaw became a narrow strip along the eastern edge of the land. Many Danish settlers joined her men and fought alongside them. Such was the power and charisma of Alfred's daughter that even the Viking city of York - Jorvik, Eoferwic - was prepared to accept her rule. 

All Erik's children had been brought up with stories about Wessex and Mercia, and when they were grown up they learned about the messengers and the other side. Sigurd had always been very close to his mother and there was never any doubt as to where he would choose to go. Unlike Einar, he was dark, with his mother's grey eyes. He had the height of a Dane and the thoughtful nature of both Erik and his Saxon grandfather. Only the youngest, Gudrun, had inherited her mother's golden hair, and she and her sister Friedrun had decided never to mention their parents' adventures to their husbands, but to live happily as Norse people. Friedrun was more serious like her Saxon grandmother, but Gudrun had the high spirits and strong will of her mother. The two daughters told the local people that their mother had gone back to her people as Eriksdale reminded her too much of Erik. 

Aethelflaed never did become a messenger. It was decided that she was too public a person to function properly in this role, so Gudrun was chosen instead. The Norsewoman never spoke of what she saw and heard. One day she took her mistress aside to tell her that the experiment was being closed, and there would be no more people taken. The other side would be just another part of our world, and the Stribes would fly across the skies to find other worlds to interfere with.

Ingrid took the Saxon name of Aelfwynn and took over when her mother died in her late forties. It was only a transitional period and she was glad to hand over to her uncle Edward and return to her family in Mercia. Her cousin Aethelstan would eventually become king over all of England.

Historians believe Aelfwynn was forced into a nunnery, but the alternative universe shows what really happened.

**Author's Note:**

> The Stribes first appeared in an episode of Babylon 5, though in a slightly different context. Rachel Bernstein, in her wonderful fan fiction The Long Trial (no longer online), expanded their interests in xeno matters. I have borrowed them to extend their activities even further.


End file.
